Old age can severely limit the human spirit, but for Ms K. Paul, who wished to visit Varanasi one last time, it was a hurdle to overcome. In the company of three friends, she accomplished her dream.
When I visited Varanasi a few years ago, I was disappointed by the state of the Shri Kashi Vishwanath temple. It was grimy and reeked of neglect, and I wished the authorities would do something about it. Recently I got to hear that the temple was renovated and wished to pay a visit. My failing health was a concern, and I resigned myself to the fact that I would not be able to see it again.
Incidentally, I found out that a childhood friend, her sister, and my daughter-in-law’s mother had a similar wish. The three of us joined forces and decided to make a short, weekend trip. To make things quick and easy, we flew into Varanasi; I opted for a wheelchair. We reached on a Saturday and witnessed the evening pujas on the ghats from a boat. On Sunday, we made our way to the Vishwanath temple. Two of us were on wheelchairs so we were given priority and taken via a short cut. I enjoyed the darshan very much and was extremely happy to see the recent renovations. I may not be able to visit Varansi again, but I felt that I was finally satisfied.
After that we visited a few more temples, travelling around in a toto. The four of us had a lot of fun and laughed and joked like schoolgirls. In the evening, we went to the markets and bought various things such as paan masala and pedas. On Monday morning we went to the Ramakrishna Mission to pay our respects to the monks and sit at the temple for a while. As our adventure ended, we boarded the plane back to Kolkata. I returned home with a certain tranquillity in my heart, and confidence that I could make a trip which, at first, I found daunting.
(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)

What do the mountains mean for someone who grew up in the Himalayas? Our member Ms D. Bhattacharya, who spent much of her life in the North-East, speaks to us about her abiding love for the hills.
Many people go to the Himalayas to travel. The mountains are a nice break from city life for them. But for me, a girl who grew up in Arunachal Pradesh, Nagaland, and Meghalya, the mountains are home. Now that I live in Kolkata, in West Bengal, it might appear strange that I have never visited Darjeeling. When I used to mention this to my husband, he would joke that I don’t need to go to the hills anymore since I know a place like Shillong so well.
I have spent a lot of my early life in Silchar in Assam, where I was born, and, later, in Shillong, Meghalaya. I have been to Arunachal Pradesh, to Bhalukpong and Itanagar, during my early years. After getting married, I lived with my husband in Kohima in Nagaland, where he was posted, for close to two years. There we spoke Nagamese, a creole language spoken by most inhabitants of the state. One of the places I liked to visit was the Kohima War Cemetery, a war memorial dedicated to the soldiers of the 2nd British Division of the Allied Forces. I used to read with interest the epitaphs, beautifully composed and inscribed on plaques and headstones. In those days many places in Nagaland were quite remote, so I wouldn’t travel too far from Kohima. Towards the end of my husband’s career, we spent 10 years in Guwahati.
In 2010, I travelled to Kashmir, and neither my husband nor I thought that it surpassed in natural beauty the sights we saw in Arunachal, except for the Dal Lake in Srinagar. We took the opportunity to go around the lake in a shikara. The waters were pure, pristine, and the mountains reflected in the lake were enchanting. We then travelled to Pahalgam and Sonmarg, where we saw snow, even in the summer! I did not take the chance of riding on a horse, and because I had my daughters with me, we decided not to trek to the peak.
The fact that I grew up in the mountains and have been accustomed to them does not mean that I find them mundane or in any way ordinary. On the contrary, having grown up there, I have come to appreciate its true worth. For me the Himalayas continue to symbolise unspeakable beauty.
(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)